Swan
by The Setting Swan
Summary: In which a 36-year old woman who was way too tired of the Twilight Saga is reborn into it as the main character. "If I'm going to be Bella Swan, I'm going to be a kickass Bella Swan. No one - vampire, human, or otherwise - is going to be able to control me. I am my own person." (rated T for cursing, SI-OC!Bella, SI-OC!Bella/Edward, AU, canon divergence)
1. Preface

**_Full Description:_ _"If I'm going to be Bella Swan, I'm going to be a kickass Bella Swan. No one - vampire, human, or otherwise - is going to be able to control me. I am my own person."  
_** **Isabelle Janet Queen was just an ordinary girl who grew up into an ordinary woman who had an ordinary death. What happened next was the extraordinary part.  
** **After dying, Isabelle woke up again - this time as a 10-year old Isabella Marie Swan, a character in a book series Isabelle had previously hated. Needless to say, sh*t's gonna hit the fan.**

 **Hello! I'm the Setting Swan, but you can call me Anastasia - or just Ana. You know, if you so prefer.**

 **You may have read the fanfiction I posted earlier, _Midnight_ , before I deleted it, and if you have, I imagine you're wondering why I deleted it. Well, I didn't really understand the character and the writing was kind of lackluster. I may repost it later, edited, or I may not - I don't know yet.**

 **Okay, so, anyway, I had this this idea after reading a mix of a couple of SI!OC fanfictions, like _Twilight'd_ and _Tossing Stones_ on this website and _False Dawn_ on Archive of Our Own - I read plenty more, but those are the ones that immediately come to mind. But, basically, I wondered what would happen if someone like me, with my own . . . _unique_ personality, ended up as Bella Swan.**

 **Hopefully you guys enjoy it.**

 **Disclaimer: I, the Setting Swan, do not own _Twilight_. What I do own is Isabelle Queen/my version of Bella Swan and my changes to the canon of _Twilight_. That's all mine - except for the ideas I borrow from other fanfiction writers. That's not mine (though I wish it was *sigh* oh, well).**

 **Warning(s): Isabelle/Bella kind of has a potty-mouth (like me) and so she will curse every so often. More so when the story actually starts. Just a forewarning.**

* * *

 _ **Swan**_

* * *

 **Preface**

* * *

 _"She died-this was the way she died;  
_ _And when her breath was done,  
_ _Took up her simple wardrobe  
_ _And started for the sun.  
_ _Her little figure at the gate  
_ _The angels must have spied,  
_ _Since I could never find her  
_ _Upon the mortal side."_

 _― Emily Dickinson, **Selected Poems**_

* * *

I hadn't given much thought on how I would die previously.

At first, it was because I was young, and it was just so impossible for the young to die- we had so much potential, so much life that would be wasted if we were to be struck down early. That belief died when my younger sister, Alice, did. She was only 14 when she died, and I was devastated - to say the least.

My second reason was that I was busy. With being part of the management for the marching band team (we were going to State if I had anything to say about it, dammit! [and as part of Leadership, I did]), preparations for graduating high school, preparations for registering for college, preparations for entering college, my creative writing, my friends, and my family, I was so busy I didn't have time to think about death.

As I grew older and things started slowing down, though, things started to change. My family, my precious, precious family, started disappearing. First it was Alice, then it was my grandmother, my great-grandfather, my cousin, my aunt, my uncle, my mother, my brother, my father. Everyone seemed to be disappearing, leaving me all alone.

I won't lie - I considered suicide; I seriously, seriously thought about it. And just when I thought I would do something about the desire, make the plunge, I met Edmund.

Oh, I know. Old-fashioned name and clearly similar to _Twilight_.

God, he and I both hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, _hate_ that series. He and I, while going out on dates, would always get snide comments about how similar our names were to the _"star-crossed"_ lovers of the _Twilight Saga_. Needless to say, we weren't too happy about any of it.

But Edmund made me happy. He made me really, really happy.

I stopped thinking about death after I met him, and we got married a year and half after we first started dating.

The only regret I have is that my family wasn't able to come to the wedding, that my father wasn't able to walk me down the aisle.

But he and I were happy, and just when I thought that nothing could ever tear us apart, something did.

I died.

At 36, nearing 37, due to complications with giving birth to our daughter, I died.

I know I died.

The entire time, through all of the agonizing contractions, I could feel my strength slipping away, I knew I would not survive past giving birth. But, still, I forced my way through; I would not let my precious baby's life be forfeit because of my own weakness. I would persevere, if for no other reason than to ensure that she can live when my life is over and done with.

I squeezed my husband's hand and prayed to whatever deity there was out there that I would survive to see my baby girl's face.

I didn't.

I slipped into the darkness just before my baby girl had slipped from my body, and all feeling was left at the door. I tumbled, head-first, into the mind-numbing nothingness that is Death and reveled in the peace that I had last been greeted with. But just as I had gotten comfortable, everything changed.

Imagine my surprise when I woke up. Not as myself, but as a 10-year old Isabella Marie Swan.

 _Fuck._

* * *

 **Next time on _Swan_ :**

 ** _"I'm Renée - your mom."_**  
 ** _I shook my head. "You . . . You can't be," I said and, by chance, I looked away from the woman who looked about to lunge at me in a hug and looked into the reflective side of a hot dog stand._**  
 ** _Staring back at me was the spitting image of Kristen Stewart at 10, with waving brown hair and chocolate brown eyes slightly too large for her heart-shaped face. Blood oozed from the spot on her temple that my pain originated from, and I reached up to touch the spot, watching in disbelief as the mini-Kristen Stewart mimicked me; my fingers came away red._**  
 ** _Then it all went black._**

 _My 'cancer stick' (as Charlie and the others have always called it) is burning low, the fire nearly at my lips, so I pinch it between my index and middle fingers and take one last drag. Once finished, I flick the butt away from me and grind it into the pavement with the heel of my high-heeled combat boot. I sigh and lean back into the concrete wall of the grocery store, crossing my arms over my chest._

 _"Does your dad know you smoke?" Mike asks from his position a few feet away, perched on a green, plastic table with his feet propped up on the seat. He has his arm thrown over Jessica's shoulder, and they both look pleased with their proximity; she's leaning into his embrace, and he has his chin propped up on the crown of her head, his face nearly buried in her dark, wildly curly hair._

 ** _I pretty much had my shit together._**  
 ** _Little did I know, that was about to change._**

 _"You guys ready for school to start again tomorrow?"_

 _. . . more laughter sounded than I was expecting. Beautiful laughter, too - like bells._  
 _I tense and turn slightly._  
 _Climbing out of the car . . . is an absolutely stunning woman with an equally stunning man, both pale as death._  
 _I know the two instantly. How couldn't I? Like me, they look exactly like their movie counterparts - although they look ten times more flawless . . . Esme and Carlisle Cullen._  
 _My eyes meet orbs of perfect gold, and all I can think is: **Oh, shit.**_

* * *

 **And done!**

 **I'm not really happy with how this turned out, but oh, well. The internet at my house malfunctioned and deleted more than half of a chapter than I was working on, and I'm still not completely over it. I'll probably edit this later, but, for now, I feel like I kind of owe you guys something - so here it is.**

 **Feel free to let me know what you think, but I'd appreciate it if you aren't an asshole about it.**

 **Bye!**


	2. Chapter 1

**FreeSpiritSeeker: Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying the story! I hope you continue to enjoy the story!  
** **Fan: ;) Hope you enjoy this chapter as Isabelle/Bella starts to follow her decision to be a strong!Bella.  
** **Guest: Here's the update you asked for, milady/my sir/otherwise. I hope that you enjoy the story! :)  
** **earthlover: Aw, thank you! I'm glad that this story interests you! I only hope that the rest of the story does the same and you enjoy. :)  
** **lizyeh2000: Thank you so much! I hope you continue to enjoy the story. :D  
** **GhostlySights: Aw, thank you! I'm glad that you can see that; that was definitely on purpose - I wanted to give her a reason to want children, to want to carry Renesmee (if I decide on that option), instead of having that random change of mind to have kids after thinking they're disgusting and not wanting any. And I definitely plan on having her bond with all of the Cullens as people, rather than as just the family of her _precious_ Edward. As for telling Edward to grow up, well, that is _definitely_ on the to-do list! Thank you for commenting, though; I really appreciate your support. :D  
** **SabinXTobi: Aw, thank you! :)  
DMCP: Oh my God! I never noticed that! Thank you so much! I'll fix that right away!  
Guest: Rest assured, you need not die any longer. ;)**

 **Welcome back!**

 **This is the first official chapter of _Swan_ , as I'm sure all of you already know.**

 **Some things you may not know is that this story was mostly inspired by _Twilight'd_ and _Tossing Stones_. I will, admittedly, be borrowing some ideas from these fanfictions. However, I will also be using a lot of ideas that are (I hope) completely original. After all, Isabelle is based on me, and how many me's can exist in the world at one time?**

 **This story will be in a relatively new format - I'm kind of playing with some things. I hope that you guys enjoy it anyway, though.**

 **Format Key:**

 ** _Italics_ : scenes that happened in the past  
** **Normal: scenes that are happening now**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own _Twilight_. What I do own is a lovely sweatshirt with the England flag on it, a cup of coffee, and an adorable terrier mix who likes laying on me even though she's really heavy and her elbows dig into my stomach. Oh, and I also own Isabelle. And some parts of the plot. But that's it.**

 **Warning(s): I tend to curse like a stereotypical sailor in common conversation - even more so when I'm upset - so don't be surprised when Isabelle/Bella starts dropping four-letter-words like we're ending WWII. Oh, and we both have a really sick sense of humor, so there's that, too.**

* * *

 ** _Swan_**

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

* * *

 _"The pain of parting is nothing to the joy of meeting again."_

 _― Charles Dickens_

* * *

 ** _Then_**

 ** _Phoenix, Arizona (w/Renée)_**

 _My head hurt._

 _It was a pulsating, aching pain that pulsed in tempo with my heartbeat, somehow layering my tongue with the combined tastes of iron and copper. My scalp itched and felt sticky, like sugar water was trickling down my forehead; the irritation of the sensation somehow made the pain worse. My eyes seemed to be glued shut; it was like being left alone to wade uselessly in the darkness, wondering at the world._

 ** _Have I_** _ **survived?** I thought to myself. **How did I survive? How am I still alive?**_

 _I knew, logically, I was still alive. I could feel pain in dull stabbing pinpricks, feel the warmth of the summer sun soaking into my skin, feel the itchy sensation of grass beneath me, feel the touch of loose cotton clothing brushing against my skin, feel the wind dancing on my skin. I could smell the scent of the baking sun, smell the scent of freshly-cut grass, smell a lavender-scented detergent nearby, smell the scent of meat roasting in a barbecue, smell the scent of a blended mix of flowers. I could taste the mint of what I guessed must be tooth-paste, taste iron, taste copper. I could hear the shrieking laughter of nearby children, hear the jangle melody of a country song blasting from someone's radio, hear the whooshing of cars driving along a busy street, hear the sizzling of meat on a grill, hear the sound of the wind rustling the branches of trees and toying with the grass, hear the concerned exclamation of a voice near my ear._

 _"Bella!?" the voice was asking, the high-pitched, feminine tones full of panicked and frantic worry. "Bella!? Are you okay!? Oh, god, Bella!"_

 _I groaned; the woman's shrieking was only making my head ache worse - I wished she would shut up. And, not to mention, she wasn't talking to me. Why did she have to be so loud right next to me? That was just rude._

 _Then, freezing, I remembered the last thing I was aware of: giving birth to Alice, passing into the darkness that I assume was death. I opened my mouth to ask how she was, "Is -"_

 _I was cut off by another exclamation from the mysterious woman. "Bella! Open your eyes, Bella!"_

 _Figuring that I might as well open my eyes, I peeled them open, ignoring the salt crystals that shattered at the movement. The woman in front of me, looking about 10 years younger than me with waving brown hair that fell to her shoulders and cheery blue eyes, looked relieved, and she reached out to brush her hand against my cheek._

 _I recoiled, and her face twisted._

 _"Bella?" she asked, looking hurt. "What's wrong?"_

 _"Who . . ." I croaked out, suddenly becoming aware of the ache in my throat, too. "Who are you?"_

 _She looked devastated, like, by asking the simple question, I had destroyed her entire world. "I'm Renée - your mom."_

 _I shook my head. "You . . . You can't be," I said and, by chance, I looked away from the woman who looked about to lunge at me in a hug and looked into the reflective side of a hot dog stand._

 _Staring back at me was the spitting image of Kristen Stewart at 10, with waving brown hair and chocolate brown eyes slightly too large for her heart-shaped face. Blood oozed from the spot on her temple that my pain originated from, and_ _I reached up to touch the spot, watching in disbelief as the mini-Kristen Stewart mimicked me; my fingers came away red._

 _Then it all went black._

* * *

 **Now**

 **Forks, Washington (w/Charlie)**

 _The day the Cullens moved to Forks started out like any other._

"Double bubble Disco Queen, headed to the guillotine," I mumble around the cigarette dangling from my mouth, quietly singing the lyrics to one of my favorite Panic! at the Disco songs - 'Victorious'.

It hasn't come out yet here, but who cares? Everyone already knows I'm strange.

My 'cancer stick' (as Charlie and the others have always called it) is burning low, the fire nearly at my lips, so I pinch it between my index and middle fingers and take one last drag. Once finished, I flick the butt away from me and grind it into the pavement with the heel of my high-heeled combat boot. I sigh and lean back into the concrete wall of the grocery store, crossing my arms over my chest.

Since moving to Forks, I'd become pretty good friends with the Madsens, the owners of the grocery store; my relationship with them is so good now that they let me smoke outside their grocery store and don't sell me out to Charlie. Not that Charlie would really do anything if he _was_ told, but we have our images to maintain so I pretend, for the most part, that I smoke behind his back and without his permission. It's just easier that way. Oh, and the Madsens will sometimes sell me hunting gear they get from the Newtons (at a discounted price) since they know I'm always going off into the woods (or so I tell them; I just enjoy scaring the shit out of the ones who don't like me and my goddamned _admirers_ ).

"Does your dad know you smoke?" Mike asks from his position a few feet away, perched on a green, plastic table with his feet propped up on the seat. He has his arm thrown over Jessica's shoulder, and they both look pleased with their proximity; she's leaning into his embrace, and he has his chin propped up on the crown of her head, his face nearly buried in her dark, wildly curly hair.

Honestly, those two are a practically nauseating couple.

"Yeah," I say, nodding. I pull my 4 inch, fold-up hunting knife out of my boot and start to pick dirt out from underneath my nails; Mike gulps near silently at the sight of the blade (he doesn't exactly have the best memories of it; before I finally got him together with Jessica, he was an admirer of mine). "But he doesn't care anymore."

"Anymore?" Jessica echoes.

She's not looking for gossip; if she was, she wouldn't be part of the Group (that was another thing I fixed pretty early on; I'm untouchable when it comes to gossip). She's just legitimately curious; she knows Charlie - she's met him before a couple of times, when she would sleep over at the house - and she knows that not caring about me smoking cigs isn't exactly in character for him.

I shrug, sheathing the knife back inside my boot when I see a car approaching. "He used to care - we used to argue about it, actually," I explain, fighting back the urge to open my pack and grab another cig; the car approaching isn't one I recognize, and that almost guarantees it's someone new to town - I don't want to give the wrong impression just yet (I like to have that planned out and perfect). "Eventually, when I gave him the usual line a couple dozen times, he just gave up. Guess I'm too stubborn for him."

Mike and Jessica laugh and agree.

"The usual line?" a relative newcomer to the Group, Marlene, echoes, and the corner of my mouth twitches upwards as I adjust my leather jacket.

God, my leather jacket is probably the best thing in my life right now - other than Charlie and all of his support and my Group. It's made of real black leather (it was such a bitch to get, I swear) and has diamond quilting up and down the arms with studs in the centers; it has a nice collar and it's cropped, too, so it only comes to the bottom of my rib-cage on me (barely fits anyone else at all). So when I wear crop-tops underneath it but zip it up (like I have today), my bare stomach shows.

Mike turns to face her. "Oh, yeah," he says, shooting her a friendly smile, "I forgot - you're new to the Group."

Jessica leans forward, having turned with her boyfriend. "So basically whenever Izzy is confronted about how unhealthy smoking is for her -"

"Which is all the time," I cut in with a fake cough.

Jess mock-glares at me for interrupting her but continues easily. "She always says, 'I guess I just want to die on my own terms.'"

I mouth the words along with her, leaving Mike struggling to stifle his laughter as Jess continues.

"It always shuts people up pretty quick," she finishes and gives a quirked grin. "Pretty morbid, huh?"

Marlene laughs awkwardly, eyeing me warily out of the corner of her eye, and I wonder idly if Compulsing her to leave the group and forget some of the juicier tidbits of gossip (the ones that Lauren would really love to get her hands on) would be worth the trouble. After a moments consideration, I decide to just wait and see what she does before using Compulsion.

Mike and Jessica shoot me meaningful looks, and I know they agree with me.

 _Since arriving in this world, in this life as Isabella Marie Swan, I found that I brought my own latent abilities to the table: Compulsion. Y'know, the overpowered bitch of a power tradition vampires are supposed to have? Basically I can command people to do things, but even when I'm not actively using Compulsion, my Mesmer is active - my Mesmer is a byproduct of the Compulsion and sort of a break-off of it. My Mesmer allows me to draw people to me without even realizing, lowering their inhibitions, get them to come closer, and be relaxed with me. That then puts me in an opportune position to use my Compulsion. And let me tell you, I have gotten pretty good at using my Compulsion - mostly to get people to avoid me (like Lauren), but I also dismissed Mike's romantic feelings for me, thus allowing his underlying feelings for Jessica to take center stage. Other than that, I haven't done anything; it's all been them._

 _But the drawback to my Compulsion is that it exhausts me to use it often, and I have absolutely no idea if it will work on vampires, so that's always a stressor. But other than that - and my relationship with_ _Renée (which is a whole monologue of explanation in itself so I'll save it for later) - I pretty much had my shit together._

 _Little did I know, that was about to change._

"You guys ready for school to start again tomorrow?" I ask conversationally, my fingers practically twitching as my craving for a cig heightens and rises.

Mike snorts, and Jessica groans at the mention. Only Marlene looks excited, but she doesn't say anything.

"Ugh, no," Jess whines. "Why can't we just not have to go back?"

"Because you don't want to get your parents arrested?" I suggest helpfully, my words possessing a mocking under-bite to them. Oh, how I enjoy riling her up.

Jess huffs and glares at me halfheartedly. "Yeah, yeah, whatever," she says, waving her hand dismissively. She leans back into Mike's embrace. "But seriously, why does school start so early?"

"I think it was created by the Devil," I joke, "so that would probably be why."

My Group all laughs at that, but the part that surprised me was that more laughter sounded than I was expecting. Beautiful laughter, too - like bells.

I tense and turn slightly.

Climbing out of the car I'd seen early - the unfamiliar one - is an absolutely stunning woman with an equally stunning man, both pale as death. The woman reminds me of Snow White in a way, with long billows of caramel hair, pale and perfect skin, a lovely heart-shaped face, and warm eyes of molten gold lined with long, dark lashes; she's flawless in her beauty, small and slender, with curves that remind distinctly of seeing pictures of women living in the late 1800s and early 1900s. The man, on the other hand, is sharper and muscular, though no less attractive; he has pale blonde hair ending at the collar of his button-up shirt and gentle, golden eyes.

I know the two instantly. How couldn't I? Like me, they look exactly like their movie counterparts - although they look ten times more flawless; I bat away the rising jealously. Esme and Carlisle Cullen.

My eyes meet Esme's, and all I can think is: _Oh, shit._

* * *

 **Marlene Sanders (OC): Played by Rita Ora. Blonde, curly hair to her shoulders. Dark brown eyes. Freckles.**

 **And done!**

 **Hope you guys don't mind the wait too much - I'm sorry it took so long. I have a bunch of other projects on hand, plus I'm working on a novel, and school's really piling on the stress and the work so I've been kinda swamped lately.**

 **I have no idea when the next update will be out, but just know that I promise I won't abandon this story - I've got plans for it yet.**

 **See you!**

 **~The Setting Swan (Anastasia)**


End file.
